


those brave young knights in muddied armor

by philthestone



Series: nursery 'verse [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: New Republic Era - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, also hey more daddy han save me, and mean old stuffy councilors are the worst, the twins are super protective of their family okay this is a thing, this one's really old why have i not posted it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Councilor's words float over to where they're standing, scathing and dismissive and cold, like he's discussing a criminal, or something he found on the underside of a toilet seat. Jacen doesn't know how Aunt Mara can be <em>sleeping</em> her way to anything, 'cause if you're asleep you're not getting much work done, duh, everyone knows that - but he still doesn't think twice about knocking the mug of caf onto the mean old stinker's robes, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those brave young knights in muddied armor

**Author's Note:**

> I TOLD YOU THERE WAS MORE DADDY HAN though I must admit this one's pretty old. But.
> 
> The twins' shenanigans aren't _their_ fault, okay, they're _provoked_.
> 
> Reviews are really nice smelling body lotions that make your skin silky smooth

The problem, Han thinks, surveying the scene in front of him with an air of resignation, is that Jaina learned that stupid innocent expression from _him_.

“Let me get this straight,” Han says, crossing his arms over his chest and giving his wayward offspring his best “I’m Your Father and You Will Answer My Questions Or So Help Me” face. “ _Somehow_ \- neither of you know how - you got caf, and a whole scalding cup of it, at that - spilled all over the front of Councilor whatsisface’s robes.”

"Councilor Ari-a Mundai,” supplies Jacen immediately, at the same time Jaina says, with an upwards angling of her nose, “ _We_ didn’t get the caf on him, Dad, he got it on himself.”

"How,” says Han. “ _How_ did he get it on himself.”

"Well,” says Jaina.

"You _see_ ,” says Jacen.

"It’s really pretty complicated, Dad, you know, everything's all happenin' at once -" 

"You know how these things are -”

“It all happened so very quickly -”

“ _I’m givin’ you thirty seconds.”_

“Um,” says Jaina hastily, “Well it’s only that, what Jacen’s _trying_ to say is that -“

"What _Jaina’s_ trying to say,” cuts in Jacen, crooked grin more apprehensive than disarming and lifting his hands up in supplication as Jaina nods her head vigorously in agreement, braids swinging, “is that he got it on _himself_ in the sense that he _provoked_ external sources and _conse-kantly_ spilled caf all over his, um, robes.”

Han presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose just as Jaina says, “Conse-kantly isn’t a _word_ , Jasa.”

"Is too!” protests her twin. “Mom used it just yesterday!”

“Right,” says Han, effectively silencing them both. “First off, Jace, it’s pronounced _consequently_ , and, yes, Jaya, it’s a word, your mother uses it all the time. _Second_. Can one of you - I don't care who - please explain to me, before I’ve gotta hang you upside down from your toes in the cockpit, what it was that Council Ari -" Han frowns, silencing Jacen's helpful "Ari-a Mundai" with a stern eyebrow - " _whatever_ \- did that made you think, ‘gee, what a great idea, we’ll spill a whole mug of caf on him, that won’t get anyone into any trouble at all’?”

Jacen opens his mouth, quickly, and snaps it shut again. Jaina is suddenly fascinated by the floor.

“Cause you know,” Han continues, seizing his opportunity the moment the blessed silence descends, “not only was the guy _pissed,_ Mom’s whole debate is put on hold, and she’s gotta do damage control now with the Ambassador from Chandrila, and things might drag out for another two days now and we won’t be able to go visit Uncle Luke like we were going to -"

" _What?_ ” cries Jaina, voice returning in a flash. “But Dad! That’s not fair!"

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault,” Han tells her, grimacing internally at the intense looks of utter devastation on the twins’ faces. “And you still haven’t told me what made you do it.”

The twins say nothing, Jacen twisting the hem of his shirt between his ten-year-old fingers with such ferocity that Han has to spend a second reassuring himself that he’s not gonna tear his new dress shirt with his fingers the first time he wears it. Usually, Han thinks with a frown, the twins and Nik are well aware that he won't persecute them for alleged misdeeds if they have good reasons for their behavior, the Rules in place flexible enough to make concessions for anything from tearing the knees of their fancy dinner clothes to sneaking nala tree frogs into Minister Horm's tea. And, as Leia is always quick to defend them to particularly stuffy members of the New Republic government, are usually not ones to overstep the line, vigilantly polite and well-behaved in front of any and all beings to whom they see their parents show respect and admiration. Han himself, jaw set and head held high (with Leia's hand never far from its calming spot on his bicep), is the first to tell any snobbish politician just where they can stuff their opinions on the upbringing of his children - how it's _none_ of their business if Jaina wants to chop half her never-brushed hair off and spends more time fiddling with machinery than crossing her ankles, how Jacen's love of animals is entirely his own and he can _damn_ well spend all his time in the dirt so long as he's not hurting himself, how there's no rule in any book that says Anakin, at the age of seven, needs to be outgoing and talkative in a room full of blasted adults and they can all kindly pack up their well meaning suggestions and _leave_ before they overstay their metaphorical welcome. 

Which is why (taking in Jacen's fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt and Jaina's lip, caught between her teeth) he can't figure out for the life of him why this time, they don't seem to be coughing up any legitimate reasons.

He sighs, and uncrosses his arms.

“Look, kiddos. You know you’re gonna have to tell your Mom eventually.”

Jacen bites his lip and looks pained, but Jaina takes deep breath and mumbles something to the floor.

“What?”

“ _Hewassayingmeanthingsaboutauntmara.”_

Han blinks at him.

“He was … saying mean things about _Mara?”_

The twins nod, their eyes still on the floor, and Han realizes that Jacen’s jaw is suddenly jutting out slightly, a telltale sign of defiance that can be spotted in his mother all the time. 

"So she’s _Aunt_ Mara now, is she?”

Jaina takes her eyes off the floor to stick her own chin out and frown at him.

"She helped us build our fort that one time, Dad.” (As though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.)

“That gives her automatic Aunt-Status,” adds Jacen importantly. “Anakin agrees with us. Also, Uncle Luke likes her.”

“ _Like_ -likes her,” Jaina clarifies, the important use of the double-like apparently critical. 

"I see,” says Han, feeling irrationally relieved and trying really hard not to grin and, space it, he’s supposed to be being _stern_ , here. “And what mean things did our unfortunate caf-covered friend say?”

Jacen looks uncomfortable, but Jaina puffs out her skinny chest and glares.

“He called her a no-good Imp defector, Dad! That lousy, flat-faced, nerfherding -” Her face is flushed by her evident outrage at such a low and demeaning insult. “I - I bet _he’s_ a no-good Imp defector -“

"Hold your star destroyers, Jaini-girl,” says Han hastily. “We’re not gonna be accusing anyone of being Imperials today. Is that all he said?”

“N - ” Jaina’s face scrunches suddenly, eyes dropping back to the floor, like she doesn’t know what to say next - which is, in itself, an anomaly. Jacen, to Han’s great surprise, flushes pink.

“Cause if that was all -”

“He said she was sleepin’ her way to New R’public secrets,” is mumbled rapid-fire into Jacen’s collar, and Jaina's small, nine-year-old fists clench reflexively at her sides. 

Han stares at them.

“Jasa didn’t know what that meant at first,” Jaina stage whispers after a moment, a desperate attempt to break the sudden silence, but her eyebrows are still drawn is and her breathing’s turned shaky, and Han finds that he really, really, honestly has _no_ idea what to say.

(And he finds himself wishing fervently that his kids weren't growing up on the edge of a political playing field, wishes that they didn't live on Coruscant where this sort of thing must've been a bi-weekly occurrence, probably, and he and Leia weren't around half the time to stamp out those whispering little voices that _didn't_ trigger instinctively protective misbehavior from their nine-year-old children, and -)

(Leia's voice springs unbidden to his mind, from two days before, her braids falling loose from their pins as she flopped down ungraciously onto the bed: _"You know, sometimes I just wish we could move to Yavin with Luke and be done with all this.")_

“Aw, sith,” is what he decides on after a moment, and he kneels down so that he’s eye-level with the twins, puts his hands on his knees. “C’mon, guys. You’re not really takin’ that guy for real, are you?”

 _“No!”_ they burst out both at once, and Jacen’s eyes widen theatrically. 

“As _if!_ He’s just a rotten ole stinker, is all!”

"And he _deserved_ that caf,” adds his sister in a fit of self-righteousness, even going so far as to stamp her small foot on the carpeted floor.

"Hey,” warns Han. “What’s Uncle Luke’s number-one rule?”

“Thinkin’ mean thoughts is a one-way ticket to a crashed speeder,” recites Jacen immediately, poking his sister in the ribs when she doesn’t agree.

“Yeah, I guess,” mutters Jaina. “But we still oughta’ve spaced him.” (This, voiced mutinously under her breath.)

Han sighs and holds his arms out, letting himself smile properly for the first time since he herded them into the room.

“C’mere, Jaini-girl. You can defend Mara’s honour all you want, but next time try and leave your Mom a little less to clean up, alright?”

Jaina springs forward and buries her head in his shoulder immediately, but Jacen hangs back, frowning. "Why do people say things like that if they're not true?"

Han sighs, stroking the top of Jaina's head and patting his other knee. Jacen remains stubbornly rooted to the floor. "Sometimes," he says slowly. "Sometimes, people feel like they've gotta put down others to make 'emselves feel important."

"But that's not fair!" protests Jacen, his straight, dark hair flopping forward into his eyes. "It's lousy and mean and it hurts people!"

"I know," says Han, swallowing. "I know, Jasa. But Mara's a grown woman. She knows how to handle people like that."

"She shouldn't _have_ to," Jaina's voice comes, muffled, from the general vicinity of Han's collarbone.

Jacen nods, too-long hair swishing around his ears.

Han gives a tired smile, wondering just how irritable Leia will be by the end of the day and if he can tell her that her children have without question inherited _her_ unwavering sense of justice.

"Nah," he says, "she shouldn't. But pouring caf down people's shirts ain't gonna make 'em change, Jace."

(And he can't believe that he's saying it, after all these years, that he's telling his kids to _walk away from a fight -)_

"We can't even knock 'em in the head?" asks Jaina's voice, stubbornly hopeful, and Han snorts aloud.

"No you can _not_ , squirt." Jacen looks unsatisfied and Jaina removes her head from Han's shoulder to give him her best disappointed pout and he continues, grinning: "You wait for the right moment and tell 'em why they're being a bantha, and if they don't listen, _then_ you can knock them around a bit." He pauses. "But only if they don't listen to you first."

"Hm," says Jacen, biting down on his lip, considering; his sister nods seriously, removing her hands from around Han's neck and propping them on her hips.

"But we've gotta be nice about it, right?"

"The nicest," agrees Han. "Or your Mom'll make her Face."

The twins' eyes widen fractionally in apprehension, memory of their mother's disapproving frown no doubt worming its way back into the front of their minds. Han hides a smile and tries to look serious.

"You gotta promise me, okay?"

“Yes, Dad,” is chorused, half-muffled as Jaina burrows into his neck again with a relieved sigh and Jacen bounds forward and takes the other side, head tucked under Han’s chin. 

"And Anakin, too," he adds, tugging lightly at Jacen's earlobe. "You two're his big siblings, alright? You've gotta look out for him and teach him things."

Jaina grins, suddenly, freckled cheeks dimpling as she shares a look with her brother. "I bet he'll laugh real hard when we tell him what Councilor Mundai's _face_ looked like."

Jacen's ability at hiding his laughter is only marginally better than his sister's; within seconds, he's giggling into Han's shoulder, fist stuffed into his mouth.

Han sighs, conceding defeat. Well, he did _try_ , anyway -

He frowns.

“Wait a minute," he says suddenly, looking down at Jaina. "Where'd you learn what that phrase meant, anyway?"

Jaina's eyebrows shoot up. "What phrase, Daddy?"

"Jaina ..."

There's a pause, wherein his two children share a look of such gravitas that Han wonders if they're about to announce their recent meeting with the Hapan Queen Mother. Which, all things considered, wouldn't be all that far fetched, but -

 _“Uncle Lando,”_ chorus the twins, and Han groans, listening to their giggles and hiding his unstoppable grin in the top of Jaina’s head, wondering absently if Luke knows his niece and nephews have already decided on a suitable Aunt.


End file.
